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Array
(
[sid] => 134738
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => What She Used To Be...
[time] => 2007-05-27 12:30:37
[hometext] => This poem is dedicated to my friend’s friend who died unexpectedly.
[bodytext] => The gentle swaying, the gradual activity Velocity so swift, no matter who surpasses such celerity. With arms that wave, in pattern to accelerate rapidity And limbs pouring out its own soul of victory. Nobody captures it, nobody knows the pattern Much as this being is overthrown, mastered, or govern. A spirit like that of endless strive Cannot be beaten once, two, three, four, or five. She runs like the wind, sometimes not fleeting enough But she hustles like the laggard hurricane, slow yet still as tough. She was treasured, pleasant, fun, and good at mind The disposition of one whom would never be rejected by means of mankind. Racism was never told Isolation would never behold. She was graceful, like the wings of a dove She felt emotions, like us, like love. She is like the gentle rhythm sung by the wind, by the nightingale, by the heavens So fast (not enough!) so quick, so forgiven. But I see the truth, within, without, outer, and inner The truth is something I cannot say, for you would call me a sinner. She was known, she was seen Even through the night, where darkness has always been. She is their heaven; she is their sunshine You can ask anything from them and they would give it— But she is something they would yell out ‘MINE’. She is so many things, so many reasons. But my truth to tell you would only be much treason. She is graceful, vigorous, lively, and agile But inside, would she always be that fragile. She is like a song, so gentle, so soft Like emotions in flight aloft. She is like the gentle rhythm sung by the wind’s blow She is neither quick and neither slow. Like breathing through an infinite nirvana, She is like the freshest breeze flowing through savanna. She is warm, she is kind, She is pure-hearted mind. - - But even such perfection Must come to consummation. Just like day… just like night… Her soul, her heart… just fell out of sight. She is like a rose, a withering rose For it can only live its perfection, when must chose. It was impulsive, unforeseen, and abrupt For such flawlessness had been interrupt. What she was, what she used to be… This lithe and robust of such being for all to see. She was the wind, she was their love But she fell, not beneath Hades, but ABOVE. She was SEEN, she was KNOWN She was beautiful from known and unknown. The swaying was gentle, the activity was gradual Even spirit, and satisfaction was residual. Nobody captured it, nobody knew the pattern Much as this being was overthrown, mastered, or govern. A spirit like that of endless strive Cannot be beaten once, two, three, four, or five. She ran like the wind, sometimes not fleeting enough But she hustled like the laggard hurricane, slow yet still as tough. She was treasured, pleasant, fun, and good at mind The disposition of one whom would never be rejected by means of mankind. She was kind, many reasons But my own is still a treason. She was loved, she was adored, she was their LOVE But why had cruelty played tricks on them and sent her above? No… it was not a deceit but she was just one of those forgiving Who played the fool and took misgiving. It never meant for her to die If never meant for her of this lie. But, still, as she is, she is gentle and smiling Hush, it came, the wind is singing. Hush, the night air has came Hush, life was put to shame. Come, come away and bring the silence It was not her fault, these silence of no violence. Go, go and bring her back her voice But you can’t… death must’ve been her choice. You can’t… You shan’t… She is herself Ne’er thyself. She… is she Never once has been you or me. She must part; she must leave, that is why To leave this cruel beautiful world by hushed goodbye. She was all the good things Yes, she was all those many things. But even in death as cruel as this… What she used to be… she still is. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 175 [topic] => 55 [informant] => russianroulette [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
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